


Thirst Touching Across Time

by Dracoduceus



Series: Words With Benefits [8]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fingering, M/M, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Time Travel Shenanigans, size queen McCree, slightly more serious than the title implies, use lube irl please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: Through time-travel shenanigans, Hanzo ends up in the days of Blackwatch. He is horrified (and strangely turned on) that his partner used to have mutton chops. Somehow he was still very much the McCree he knew and loved.And it seemed that his fascination—and attraction—was mutual. It wouldn’t be cheating on his McCree if he fucked his past self...right?
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Series: Words With Benefits [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1498223
Comments: 6
Kudos: 162





	Thirst Touching Across Time

**Author's Note:**

> You may recognize the setup of one scene. I am not sorry. Also, the title is absolutely stolen from that one Inuyasha movie that I don't remember.
> 
> This was the winner of a monthly poll from September.

Then:

“Fascinating,” Moira said again. It was probably the fifth or sixth time she said so in the past hour. 

“What?” Reyes demanded. 

Holding up the pad, Moira smiled. It was written in whatever private cypher she used and to further obfuscate what was written, she wiggled it in Reyes’ face. “There is a similar anomaly to this man’s scans as there is in Genji’s. But unlike Genji’s there are two: one in his left arm and one in his right leg.” 

“Genji’s is on his back,” the man said. “And I do not recommend looking too closely at these ‘anomalies’. They do not react well to modern medical tech. And some things are better kept secret.” 

Reyes crossed his arms. “So are you Shimada?” 

The man turned and looked at Reyes. There was a kind of ease to his expression, as if this discussion was beneath him. It should have rubbed McCree the wrong way but McCree was only intrigued. Did this man dare to think he was better than everyone, even as a prisoner? 

He had long hair, which he wore down, threaded with silver. McCree thought that he was in his early 40’s but it was hard to tell with his physique. With his chest bare, McCree could see the beautiful ink on his left side, a sleeve that curled over his shoulder and hovered possessively over his chest. What McCree wouldn’t give to chase the curl of the frilled tail, taste the ink of its scales. 

If the anomaly on his left arm was from this tattoo, did that mean that the anomaly on his right leg was a tattoo as well? Was it a similar design? How high did it go up on his leg? Over his hip? Into his groin? 

How well would it look hooked over McCree's hip? That pale skin contrasting with his own tan skin. Knowing his luck, this man liked doing the fucking. That’s fine, because McCree was flexible. 

The man was looking at him too, something electric in those brown eyes. “Shimada no longer,” he said simply. 

“You can’t just leave _yakuza_ ,” Reyes pointed out. “Especially not the Shimadas.” 

“The way that McCree ‘just’ left the Deadlocks?” Shimada asked without looking away from McCree. “He’s done it; I’ve done it too.” 

“Not an heir,” Moira said. There was a wicked smile curling her lips. “So tell me, _Shimada_. What is your relation to Genji Shimada?” 

The man turned to look at Moira and McCree missed his powerful gaze. He smirked, meeting Moira’s eyes challengingly. “I am his brother,” he said. “Shimada Hanzo. At your service.” 

McCree had seen Genji’s body, read the reports. He knew the damage done, the resources needed just to save his life, what was needed just to get him back on his feet. From what little he knew of prosthetic implants, he was sure that Genji was in great pain as well, if only from phantom pain. 

He’d seen what was left of Genji to scrape off the cobblestone streets of Hanamura. 

As much as he _liked_ the guy, as abhorrent as what had been done to him was, McCree couldn’t help the bolt of heat shooting through him. This man was dangerous. This man could kill— _has_ killed, even someone as close as his own blood. 

It was a terrible thing and yet...McCree could never remember being so turned on. 

* * *

Now:

“According to _my_ calculations—”

“You did not take into account—”

“While I appreciate your input, Agent Vaswani, I assure you that my calculations are _correct_.” 

McCree rubbed his chin and beard as if deep in thought, his eyes downcast as he played the part of dutiful, worried partner. At his side, Mei patted his arm consolingly. “Don’t worry, McCree,” she said. “We’ll find him.” 

“Hold up!” Lena cried, holding up her hands. The heated discussion (because Satya didn’t _argue_ ) paused. “Simple terms,” she begged. “Do we know _where_ he is?” 

Satya paused to look at Winston as if challenging him to answer. When he didn’t, inclined his head to her, she looked briefly triumphant—or at least triumphant for her—and turned to face Lena. “We have no way of _confirming_ when _or_ where he is,” she said. “We have a few…” she paused, considering her word choice very carefully. 

“Educated guesses,” Winston said dryly. 

Satya’s lips twisted in disgust at the use of the “g-word”. “Yes,” she said a little sourly. “By our best... _guess_ —” it looked like it pained her to even say the word. “—he should still be in this area. The mishap appears to have affected only _time_ , not _location_. That does not mean that he can’t be _moved_ , however. As for the time component…” 

“We believe that we have somewhat narrowed down the time frame,” Winston said when Satya trailed off. While Satya was the expert in physical displacement, Winston was the closest they had to an expert in temporal displacement. “So he should be somewhere in a range of 20 years in the past and 20 years in the future.” 

Understandably, Lena didn’t look amused. “Yeah, Wins,” she said sarcastically. “That sure narrows it down. 40 years. Piece of cake.” 

Winston huffed, adjusting his glasses. “By my calculations, we _should_ be able to make a device to help locate him.”

“Yes,” Lena said too-patiently. “But will it work across _time_?”

“Unlikely,” Satya said. At the same time, Winston said, “Probably.” They looked at each other. 

Lena waved her hands. “I’m not interested in your lovers’ spat,” she said. “I can make the jump, but it’ll take time. I _think_ I can do three jumps—now to Time A, to Time B, and back to present—before I need to recharge.” 

“But it doesn’t take you very long to recharge, right?” Angela asked nervously. 

“It’s hard to tell,” Lena said ruefully. “Blinks across _distance_ in the same time don’t take very long to recharge, both for my chronal accelerator and my body but…” she shook her head. “I can’t tell. Jumping back so far might...I don’t know how that will affect me. I might need longer to recover.” 

McCree sighed and stood. Everyone’s eyes turned to him. He kept his eyes down and his voice shook when he said, “I know you’ll do your best, Lena. I believe in you.” 

Nobody chased him when he quickly left the room so nobody saw him lose his composure and begin to laugh quietly to himself in the hallway. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he began the long walk back to the residential area of the base, lost in his memories. 

* * *

Then:

Shimada had a tattoo winding down his right hip. 

It was rude to stare in the communal showers, but he couldn’t help it. They were the only ones there and the overhead lights made the water shine as it sluiced off his skin. 

So he stared, his eyes lingering over the dragon twisting its way through stormy clouds down his leg. He had a back piece too, a Longhorn skull with a blue and gold snake draped across its horns. Both were nestled in a bed of flowers. 

They didn’t match the typical _yakuza_ style, looking more neo traditional. What McCree wouldn't give to run his fingers over the lines, to feel the raised scars or smooth skin. Soap bubbles slid down Shimada’s back and McCree watched it fall, wanting to brush them away to better stare at the man’s tattoos. 

His ass was nice too. 

His legs. His back, his shoulders. 

Shimada was _definitely_ older, but he was still built like a brick shithouse. He could probably bench press McCree without breaking a sweat. 

“Are you just going to stare?” Shimada asked without turning around. He threw his wet hair over his shoulder, some of the water hitting McCree even across the small bathing room. “You’ll give me the wrong idea.” 

“Eyeing your ink,” McCree said and Shimada turned around to look at him. Despite his words, McCree looked down, found Shimada’s cock half-hard. He wondered what it would taste like, what it would feel like fully hard and lodged in his throat. When he met Shimada’s eyes again, he found that the older man was smirking. 

He turned off the water and crossed the aisle, pushing McCree against the cold tile of the shower wall. One of his big arms pressed against McCree’s throat—firm enough to apply pressure but not hard enough to truly choke him—while the other gripped his hip. 

“Tell me to stop,” Shimada dared.

“Ain’t one to back down from a challenge,” McCree said instead and Shimada grinned a savage grin. 

“Good,” he said and kissed McCree. 

* * *

Now:

McCree cleaned their room absently. He piled dirty clothes in the hamper to do laundry, cleaned up the bits and sketches that had been scattered around their room from the open window. Some were tossed; others were tucked into his notebook for use later. 

He paused to look at the painting on the wall and smiled. It had been a sketch based on a lamp that Hanzo had seen in a home decor store and hated with a passion. Seeing it too, McCree had to agree.

The plastic skull had been colored an unfortunate beige color, giving it a strangely fleshy appearance when the light had been turned on; through the open eye sockets, the light looked like hellfire. 

McCree couldn’t even joke about buying it; he knew that Hanzo would immediately divorce him. Still, the motif of the bull skull hanging on a wall—even one as hideous as that fake skull lamp—had lodged itself in his brain. That was the story he had told Hanzo, at least, and it was true. 

Mostly. 

Really, it had reminded him of something that he had never talked about with anyone except Genji, and even then he hadn’t told his friend the whole story. 

He’d spent weeks drawing them, sketching out ideas for a grand design that he hoped would one day be transferred to skin. The moment that Hanzo had seen one of his half-finished sketches of the skull among the flowers, he had loved it. 

McCree smiled and twisted the ring on his finger. The funniest part was that aside from the skull, the entire design had been created from Hanzo’s input. It of course matched the half-remembered design that he had caught a glimpse of so long ago. 

* * *

Then:

Shimada leaned, legs spread, with his big forearms braced against the lockers. It allowed McCree to sit on the bench and bury his face between the older man’s cheeks. 

He was very good at a lot of things, and he liked to think that eating ass was one of them. From Shimada’s deep, vibrating moans, he didn’t have any objections. 

Using one hand, he kept Shimada spread wide, or as wide as he could manage; with the other, he stroked Shimada’s delicious cock and tried not to come while thinking of that monster buried in him. It was just the kind of cock he liked—girthy, with a length that he would feel in his throat, as if skewered on it. 

_God_ he hoped that Shimada would fuck him. Just bend him over, maybe yank on his hair, and rail him into the mattress. Fuck training, he’d have to sit out for at least a day while he recovered from that kind of reaming. 

He hoped that he’d get to fuck Shimada too. Make him bounce in his lap, maybe bend his legs back and see how flexible he was. If he was a ninja like Genji, then he should be flexible, but those muscles looked too bulky for him to bend. 

Groaning, he slipped a finger in beside his tongue. There wasn’t enough lube so it was a rough fit but Shimada made a surprised noise before groaning low and loud as he came, come splattering over the painted blue lockers. 

It was only Jackson’s locker though, so McCree didn’t care if any got in through the slats. Fuck Jackson. 

He was so hard it hurt but he loved the breathy noises that Shimada made as he continued to touch him, tugging on his softening cock and mouthing at his twitching hole. “Fuck,” he breathed, his lips brushing against the dip in Shimada’s lower back. “I can do this all day. You like that?” 

McCree pulled away slightly, the fingers of his free hand digging into the meat of Shimada’s ass. There was a faint dusting of pink on his skin, signs of beard burn; the ring of Shimada’s hole was flushed pink around McCree’s fingers. 

Some guys got off spanking others, getting their ass nice and cherry-red. Don’t get him wrong, he liked it too, but there was just something about beard-burned skin that got him going. The thought that more than just his cock can make it hard for someone to sit was electrifying and he reached down with the hand not testing the hot press of Shiamda’s hole to grip the base of his cock tightly. He didn’t want to come, not yet. 

Not now, not until he figured out if his cock would be joining his fingers in Shimada’s tight heat, or if he’d be coming from Shimada’s cock making him see stars. 

Honestly, close as he was, he doubted that Shimada would get more than the head in before he popped off. 

Pulling back, McCree traced the bulge of Shimada’s muscles, the sheen of sweat and water from his shower with his eyes. The ink on his back and shoulder and leg seemed to glow, flashes of brilliant blue shining over the scales of the dragons. The tattooed skull leered down at him and he almost thought that he could see a flash of red in its empty eyes. 

Shimada moved away and McCree sighed regretfully as his fingers popped out. His hair was gripped in a big hand, twisting his head up and back to look up at Shimada. He ran his free hand over McCree’s cheek in a touch that was almost too tender for just sex. Shimada’s fingers tugged at his mutton chops and a strange look crossed his face that was part longing, part amusement, part resignation. 

“These are hideous,” Shimada said. “But somehow they suit you.” He didn’t give McCree a chance to respond, tucking his thumb between McCree’s lips. “Tell me, do you want more? Because I am far from being done with you.” 

_God_. 

McCree wasn’t sure what love is, but he thought that this might be close to it. 

* * *

Now:

All good fun must come to an end. 

Two weeks into Hanzo being missing in time, Genji returned from an extended mission where he had no access to his communication devices. “How are you?” McCree asked, hooking an arm around the ninja’s neck. “How was the mission?” 

Genji gave him a thumbs-up and a tired smile. “I heard that something happened?” 

Just then, Mei caught up. “Genji!” she exclaimed. “Have you heard? Winston wants to see you.” 

Genji looked at McCree as if to ask, _what have you done?_

He looked at McCree that way again after being briefed by Winston. “You say you don’t know where or when he is?” he asked.

“No we’re not, I’m sorry,” Winston said after a glance at Lena, who had joined them while she recovered. She had only been able to do a few jumps per day—traveling so far through time was taxing on her body in addition to her equipment and they had to take great care that they didn’t lose her as well. 

Genji turned to McCree. “Really?” he asked. “Why did you tell them sooner?” 

Everyone looked at McCree. “Tell us what?” Lena asked. She shoved a huge bite of her sandwich into her mouth. 

“McCree knows exactly when and where he is,” Genji said, taking his mask fully off his face so that he could be sure that McCree could see his scowl. “Why didn’t you tell them sooner?” 

McCree laughed when everyone looked at him in shock. He began laughing harder when he looked at Lena who was scowling around her chipmunk cheeks full of sandwich. 

“Wha’a foh’kon mi’ut,” she said around her mouthful. She held up a finger for him to wait as he began to wheeze; she chewed, swallowed, and took a big gulp of whatever sports drink that Angela had concocted for her. “Wait a fucking minute,” she cried. “ _You knew this whole time?_ ”

“It was in my past,” McCree admitted around his laughter. “Sorry, Lens. I can give you his exact time and location if you like.” 

Lena wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and jabbed a finger in his face. “We are going to have _words_ when I am through. Give me the fucking information.” 

Still wheezing, McCree obeyed, giving her the date, time of day, and exact coordinates from memory. Giving him a last, frustrated look, Lena activated her chronal accelerator and disappeared in a flash of blue. 

“If you had known this entire time, why did you not tell us earlier?” 

McCree wiped his eyes and smiled a winning smile at Satya. She didn’t look convinced. “You were going to research it anyway,” he told her. “And he is in my past, so I know that he wasn’t in any danger.” 

A moment later, Lena returned with Hanzo in tow. “We’re having words later, Cowboy,” Lena threatened, her threat less effective when she yawned halfway through his nickname. “Now, I’m going to rest.” 

She Blinked away and McCree found himself grinning stupidly at Hanzo. “Hey, babe.” 

“We were interrupted,” Hanzo growled, his voice low and throaty. 

Remembering exactly what he was talking about, what he often thought of as the worst blue balls of his life, McCree looped an arm around his partner’s waist. He tipped his hat at the team, who was still staring at him incredulously. “Thank you for all your hard work,” he said as Hanzo dragged him away. 

* * *

Later:

Hanzo yanked McCree’s head back by his hair while his hips continued to melt McCree’s brain to mush. He couldn’t hear anything over Hanzo’s low grunts, the wet slap of Hanzo’s hips against his ass, his own muffled cries. 

“Do you remember?” Hanzo hissed, his breath hot against McCree’s shoulder. “You’re a fucking size queen even as a twink. It seems that times haven’t changed. You slobbered over my cock as much then as you do now.” 

He shifted, shoving McCree’s face into the bed and yanking his hips up. McCree felt him pause for a brief moment, bracing himself before he began fucking McCree even harder. He’d have bruises the next day, would certainly be walking funny—and he could just forget about sitting down _anywhere_ without a cushion—but right then, everything except the thick press of Hanzo’s cock was beyond comprehension. 

“You’re not as tight as you were then,” Hanzo hissed at the edges of McCree’s awareness. “But I can’t be too upset. That just means that you remember who you belong to.” 

He paused, to McCree’s distress, spreading McCree’s cheeks to look at where they were joined. McCree used the moment to catch his breath, only to lose it again when Hanzo brushed his rough fingers against his stretched hole. 

“Perhaps next time I’ll fuck you with your toy as well. I bet you wouldn’t be able to walk for _days_. Not without thinking of me.” He ground his hips into McCree’s prostate and he came hard enough to see stars. 

* * *

Afterward:

“I like the pain,” McCree said, voice rough and raspy. 

“I like you to be able to walk,” Hanzo replied, affection in his own rough voice. 

McCree whined at Hanzo’s touch on his tender skin, leaving tingling ointment in his wake. Then he sighed as the biotics took effect and soothed the ache he hadn’t realized he had been feeling. 

He could hear Hanzo moving around somewhere behind him, likely straightening things up. The bed dipped and McCree was tugged back against Hanzo’s broad chest. 

“You know,” McCree said slowly. “I dreamed about that dick for a long time.” 

Behind him, he could feel as well as hear Hanzo laughing. There was a kind of nervous edge to it and he carefully twisted to look back at him. He drew Hanzo into a kiss and then kissed away the wrinkles creasing his forehead. 

“Thinking causes wrinkles,” he said and that made Hanzo smile as it always did. 

“You aren’t upset?” Hanzo asked. “I did...kind of cheat on you.” 

McCree laughed and then winced as that pulled the muscles on his back. “I don’t count it like cheating. I mean…” he hesitated. “I’m gonna be real honest, sweet? Memories of you fucking me into my own bunk...and against the wall...and fucking my throat in the showers…”

Laughing, Hanzo slapped at McCree’s chest as he continued to list the places they fucked in the past. 

“No,” McCree told him with a laugh, catching Hanzo’s lips in a kiss. “I have very good memories of that time.” 

“So you fell in love with my dick first?” Hanzo asked, an odd expression on his face. 

McCree kissed him. “Would I be me if I didn’t?” he teased. 

Hanzo’s expression softened slightly. “I suppose not,” he agreed. “For what it’s worth...I fell in love with your dick first, too.” 

Unable to help it, McCree laughed until Hanzo kissed him again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to also come and yell at me on Twitter at [Dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus). 
> 
> ~DC


End file.
